


Crease Emergency

by prepare4trouble



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: Gen, Kryten Loves Laundry, Laundry, ironing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prepare4trouble/pseuds/prepare4trouble
Summary: Kryten discovers Lister knows how to iron a shirt. This is a disaster...
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	Crease Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a dialogue prompts meme on Tumblr. Prompt was "Why are you helping me?"

Kryten hummed to himself as he walked to the laundry room with a basket of dirty clothes tucked under one arm. The sound of the washing machine had moved on to the high-pitched whine that indicated the final spin cycle, and he estimated he had just under five minutes before he could take out the first load, pop it in the dryer, and get the next pile washing. Then, with Mr Lister’s dirty socks sloshing happily around the washing machine, he would be able to kick back and do something he really enjoyed: ironing.

At least, that was the plan. A plan that came to a grinding halt when he entered the laundry room to find somebody else already standing at the ironing board.

Kryten blinked, took a few nanoseconds to run a quick diagnostic on his visual acuity circuits, made sure that he hadn’t bypassed his sanity chip and started hallucinating, and finally, one at a time, removed his eyes and gave them a quick rub with a cloth before popping them back in.

He found, to his dismay, that the scene before him had not changed,

“Mr Lister?” he asked a little hesitantly, still not one hundred percent certain that he wasn’t suffering from some kind of malfunction.

Lister was unclothed from the waist up, meaning that either he had forgotten to get dressed, or there had been some kind of laundry disaster. He was standing behind the ironing board, iron in one hand, the other hand holding a shirt in place. He pushed the steam button on the iron and a cloud of water vapour hissed out into the garment below. Lister pressed the iron down hard and wobbled it from side to side as he erased a crease.

“Alright Kryten,” he said. “Don’t mind me, I’ll be out of your hair in a sec.”

As Kryten carefully placed the laundry basket on the floor next to the washing machine, Lister pushed the steam button again. _Again_. Twice in one minute. It was madness. “Sir,” he said. “Are you... helping me?”

Lister frowned, then shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Kind of.”

“But… _Why_ are you helping me? You detest ironing, sir. In fact, I distinctly remember you telling me that there was no point in it because the creases always fall out anyway once you’ve worn something for a few hours.”

Lister shrugged. “I stand by that,” he said. “But I needed a shirt. And I mean, yeah, normally I’d just put it on. But I wanted _this_ shirt, and it was so creased up that I just _knew_ if you saw me, you’d make me take it off so you could iron it.”

Kryten looked at the shirt on the board. “Ah yes,” he said. “That was from the challenge pile.”

“The what?” asked Lister.

“Well sir,” Kryten said. “I love ironing, as you know. But even _I_ have to admit that sometimes it gets a bit samey. So I decided to liven things up a bit.”

Lister pushed the steam button again. “Liven things up?” he repeated.

“Yes. By challenging myself. Every time I do laundry, I pick two or three items to screw up into a ball,” he said. “I really twist them, fold them at awkward angles and generally do everything I can to make sure they’re covered with deep creases, then I leave them to dry like that. It’s not good laundry practice, I’m afraid, but it ensures that ironing the creases out is a real challenge.”

Lister shook his head. “I guess that explains it,” he said. “Well, I wanted to wear it, and I figured if I did, you’d demand I strip down in the middle of breakfast so you could iron it. So I decided to spare myself that and help you out at the same time by just doing it myself.”

He pressed the steam button again, and Kryten flinched. “I see. Well, I’m here now sir. So would you be so kind as to _stop_ helping me?”

Lister frowned. He put the iron down on the heat resistant pad at the end of the ironing board. “Why?” He pushed the steam button again, this time not even aiming downward. The steam escaped uselessly into the room.

“Please, sir,” Kryten begged. “You’re overdoing it. I love the steam button as much as the next droid; the soothing hiss of the steam forced out of the iron at pressure, the gurgle of the water inside as it moves to fill the space left behind, and best of all, the way even the most stubborn of creases surrender in the face of it. It is absolutely the best part of ironing, but this is too much.”

“If you hadn’t deliberately creased up my favourite shirt so much that even _I_ couldn’t wear it, I wouldn’t have to,” Lister said.

Kryten edged slowly closer, feeling very tense. Ironing was _his_ job. What if Lister decided that _he_ liked it too? They would end up fighting over who got to do it, and as Kryten was programmed to defer to the will of a human, he knew that _he_ would be the loser of that particular battle. “How about I take over now?” he said. “You don’t really like ironing, do you sir? And it’s so dangerous. Imagine if you got burned, I’d never forgive myself. And honestly, if you carry on like that you’ll wear that steam button out. Four times for the same garment? Goodness me, don’t you know that the iron releases steam anyway? Pushing the button is reserved for crease emergencies only.”

“Crease emergencies?” Lister shook his head. “Oh you mean like when you accidentally iron a crease into your clothes and it won’t come out? Yeah, it’s okay, you can relax Kryten, it _was_ a crease emergency.”

“You ironed a…” Horrified, Kryten stepped closer still, hoping to put himself between Lister and the iron. “Sir, please. Step away from the iron. I’ll finish it for you.”

Lister shrugged, and to Kryten’s extreme relief, moved away from the ironing board. Like a negotiator that had finally talked a gunman into handing over his weapon, Kryten grabbed hold of the iron’s handle the second that he could. He allowed himself a moment to relax and enjoy the victory before he looked down at the shirt to assess the damage.

“You know, this is a little bit insulting Kryten,” Lister told him. “I mean, I kinda resent that you think I can’t iron a shirt. I know I normally _don’t_ , but I could if I wanted to. I’m not a total idiot.”

Kryten let go of the iron and ran his hands over the shirt, checking for creases. There were none. Surprised, he turned it around and checked the back, then the arms, then finally the collar.

“See?” said Lister with a grin.

Kryten stared down at the shirt in horror. This was a disaster. If Mr Lister could iron his own shirts, then he could potentially do it at any time! Kryten could arrive to do some ironing that he had been looking forward to, and find it already done! No no no, this wouldn’t do at all.

He couldn’t lie, not to Mr Lister. Not convincingly, anyway. Mr Lister had taught him the skill, and he could always see right through him when he tried to use it. There was only one other answer; deception.

“It’s… not bad sir,” he said, “But… Oh look, what’s that over there?” He pointed at the other side of the room, where there was absolutely nothing of interest.

When Lister glanced briefly away, Kryten picked up the iron and quickly but carefully ironed in a crease. By the time Lister looked back at him, the iron was in the same position it had been in before, as though nothing had happened. “What?” Lister asked

“Oh, nothing,” Kryten said, then made a show of looking down at the shirt. “Oh, would you look at that,” he said. “A crease. Never mind, sir, I’ll take care of that for you.”

Lister folded his arms and watched as Kryten ironed out the crease.

“There we go sir, now it’s perfect,” Kryten told him. He handed him the shirt. “So, I think that definitively proves that I am the superior ironer. Maybe you should just leave it to the expert next time, sir. Can you imagine if you had put on the shirt with that giant crease? What _would_ Mr Cat have thought?”

Lister rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right Kryten. No more ironing for me. It’s probably for the best.”

Lister put on the shirt and walked away while still buttoning it up. Kryten allowed himself to indulge in smug mode for a moment in celebration of his completely convincing deception, until the washing machine finished. He hurried over, eager to get the new load in so that he could enjoy the rest of the ironing.


End file.
